


a stream of barely comprehensible consciousness

by eddieklives



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Attorneys at Law AU, Character Study, Dreams and Nightmares, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Therapy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddieklives/pseuds/eddieklives
Summary: Eddie hits rock-bottom, dreams, opens up and checks his text messages.[Side prose for social media AU Attorneys At Law on Twitter]
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	a stream of barely comprehensible consciousness

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Domi for beta reading this, for providing this BANGING title and for translating some phrases into Polish. I love you!!
> 
> Content warnings and possible triggers (please read carefully): Medical procedures, hospital setting, sedation, cancer mention; Delusion, dreams; Panic/anxiety attack, implied suicidal ideation, implied suicide attempt; Fidgeting, pulling skin; Mentions of drug use and alcoholism, AA meeting, therapy.
> 
> ~~ You can find the English translations for the Polish phrases at the end. ~~

**October 26th, 2018**

The constant beeping of the machine was easy to get accustomed to; a reminder that his heart was still beating, that his oxygen levels were normal. He could hear it in the rare moments he would slip into consciousness, but it would blend out, become slurred, or like Eddie was hearing it from underwater as soon as the numbing feeling all over his body came back. It wasn’t just the beeping though, but voices. He recognized them, he did, but in his state of dehydrated delusion, he couldn’t for the life of him put faces or names to them.

He hadn’t spoken yet, despite his many brief lucid moments, mostly because he wasn’t sure of what he was trying to say. He would always stir up with the sudden urge to say  _ something _ to  _ someone _ , but he didn’t know what, much less to who. His body, or moreso his brain, clearly recognized there was something he was neglecting, something he had meant to do. His mouth, upon waking, would immediately attempt to pronounce an _ R _ , but his tongue would lull on the back of his throat and he would lose strength, maybe even his train of thought, almost immediately. So, something starting with an  _ R _ was plaguing his subconscious -  _ fantastic! _

He moaned in pain, discomfort, and cold all at once. Then he heard a commotion, a shuffle of bodies moving fast, pacing sounds next to his bed. “R-” He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too strong, too intense. He heard some more shuffling and then, a switch flicking. Eddie tried to open his eyes again and noticed it hurt significantly less, although he still felt that his lids were heavy with a feeling of being glued-shut. He tried to move his neck to look at himself and could see a thin tube grow out of the back of his hand.  _ An IV. _ His chest felt tight, suddenly. Eddie didn’t like needles. Eddie, in fact, didn’t like hospitals at all, and for the first time in his  _ several _ attempts at waking up, it dawned on him where he was.

He started moving his arms and legs, trying to pull the needle out. He felt two sets of hands try to secure him, but Eddie couldn’t breathe. “R-” He slammed his head back against the hospital bed and squirmed. His noises grew more panicked, resembling grunts now, as he struggled to understand what was happening, why he was there,  _ what he was trying to say. _ It felt important, it felt- “R- Ree-”

“Eds, calm down, buddy, come on. Shhh, no one’s gonna hurt you- Jesus, where are these fucking nurses?!” one voice said.

“Baby, is he trying to say-,” The other asked.

“Yeah,” the first one replied, in a sad tone.

_ Why is it sad? Why are you sad? Why can’t I- Why can’t I-  _

“Ugh!” The light was flicked on out of the blue and Eddie’s forearm shot up to his eyes, shielding them. He hissed and started kicking when cold, gloved hands grabbed him. “No! No! Stop! Please, please!” The nurse managed to get a hold of the IV hub and pushed in 1 mg of Midazolam. “Richhh-'' Eddie's body relaxed and he went back to sleep.

Under sedation, his mind wandered. He dreamt of fingers in his hair and of light feather-like touches down his spine; of blue eyes and a red tie and interlocked fingers. He felt sad, suddenly, although the images in his brain continued on, in a perfect little loop. Then, the sadness turned into longing, and the longing into guilt. That last one was particularly painful for him, even though he wasn’t sure what he felt guilty for, but it must have been serious judging from the way he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He was still out when the beeping of the machines spiked up and he heard people walk into the room. Their voices sounded muffled, like they were coming from far away, but Eddie knew they had to be standing next to his bed because he could hear them shuffle around. 

“What’s wrong? Is he coding?” This voice, likely of a young girl, didn’t match either of the two he had been hearing. 

“No, I think he’s- I think he’s having a bad dream.” A second, more mature voice, spoke softly, adding a tongue click at the end.

“Should we give him something to wake him up?”

“No, let’s just monitor his vitals for now. The last time he woke up he was really panicky and had to be sedated. He tried to fight the nurse.”

“Do we take a note of this, though?”

“Yeah, rookie.” A soft laugh.

And that was it, they left. Eventually, the beeping normalized, probably because Eddie tried to focus on it, counting the beeps as he held on to semi-consciousness like his life depended on it – because it felt like it did.

Eddie doesn’t know how or why, but he found himself thinking about his mom. Not that far-fetched, once he gave himself two seconds. His mother died in a hospital, maybe that same one. The machines around her kept a steady beep, just like his; her IV line connected to the back of her hand, just like his; her life hung on by a thread, just like h-  _ Why am I here? What’s the last thing I remember? Come on, E- E-  _

_ Eddie. My name is Eddie. I am 41 years old. My mother was Sonia Kasprzak. My father was Franciszek Kasprzak. They came to the United States in 1976. My name is Eddie Kaspbrak, they made them change it. Edward Francis Kaspbrak, not Franciszek, not Kasprzak. I’m a first-generation immigrant. I never say that, I never say I’m Polish-American, I always say I’m American, mom taught me that. Don’t tell anyone, it doesn’t matter, you were born here. Don’t call me mamusia, Eddie. It’s mom. Yes, just mom. Don’t tell anyone, they’ll send me back. They’ll send me back, back, back- Don’t say that, mamusia, it’s gonna be okay, I won’t let them take you, I promise. Did the letter come, ma? Was it approved? It’ll be okay, they won’t separate us, I’m only 9, why would they- I’m gonna be a lawyer, mamusia, I am. And then I’m gonna make sure you can stay forever, okay? Ma! I got into law school- What’s wrong? Dlaczego płaczesz? What do you mean you have canc- My name is Eddie. I am 41 years old. My mother was Sonia Kasprzak. My father was Franciszek Kasprzak. They came to the United States in 1976. My name is Eddie- Hi, ma. Mam dla ciebie kwiaty. Well, I’m officially a lawyer, or whatever. I did it for you, you know that. It’s pointless now. Bill and Mike wanted to come, but I said no. I haven’t cried since the funeral- Shit! Przepraszam, że palę. Wiem, że tego nienawidzisz. I should quit these things- My name is Eddie. I am a lawyer. I have two best friends, Bill and Mike. My mother is dead, my father is dead. I’m an alcoholic and an addict. I got married in 2008- Well, I’m getting married, ma. She’s nice, I guess. And she wants a family, although I’m not sure I’m ready for one. I don’t know if I’d be a good father, I struggle with being a good person. But, she likes me and I’m pretty sure no one else is going to, so. Maybe it’s foolish, I don’t know. I just- Boję się być sam. As sad as that sounds. Bill and Mike are great but, they have each other, you know? I wish I had a connection like that with someone but I don’t and- My name is Eddie. I am 41 years old. My mother was Sonia Kasprzak, my father was Franciszek Kasprzak. They are both dead. I’m a lawyer. A month ago I realized I was gay and that I- I love- I love Richie Tozier. _

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! _

“God, his eyes are going bonkers!”

“He’s just dreaming, Bill.”

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! _

“Can’t be a good dream, he looks shaky.” 

Eddie felt fingers run slowly through his hair, pushing it back.  _ Richie? Wake me up… Please? Rich? _

_ Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep! _

“What the fuck? Why is it speeding up?”

“I don’t know...”

“Eds. Eddie, hey.” 

“Bill, what are you doing- Stop!”

First, Eddie felt his body being slightly shaken by the shoulders. Then, it was as if his brain was being slowly pushed out of his cranium. The pain, he guessed, was the excruciating result of a long-overdue hangover. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” shouted a female voice. “Get off of him, now!” Eddie heard a commotion around him and then, someone was opening up his eyelids and sticking a light directly in his eyes. 

“Hgg…” Eddie groaned and both his hands moved up towards his head. He opened his eyes slowly then hissed, closing them again. Bill – he could tell now that it was Bill – was standing behind a nurse, peeking over her shoulder as she checked Eddie’s vitals. Eddie’s mouth felt dry, his hair was disgusting. He felt tired, starting to drift off again. “Richie…”

As the nurse stepped away, Eddie could feel a set of hands on his cheeks, holding his face and stroking his hair. “Eddie, wake up. Shh, open your eyes.”

“He’s okay, but he’s gonna be groggy for a while. Take it  _ easy  _ on him,” the nurse spoke; Eddie opened his eyes just in time to see her glare at Bill, then he was out cold again.

Eddie moved his head from side to side as he tried to make himself wake up fully. It hurt to move his neck, but it felt good at the same time. He opened his eyes slowly, finding that the lights were off. Next to the bed were Mike and Bill. Mike. And Bill. His Mike, his Bill. “Richie…”  _ Richie is mad at you. He’s not here, because he’s mad at you. Stop calling for him, he’s not coming.  _

Bill came closer and pushed Eddie’s hair back, stroking his head. “It’s Bill, buddy…” So Bill was the one running his fingers through Eddie’s hair earlier. “Open your eyes, you got it.”

Eddie blinked. Once, twice, three times. He felt shaken, and quite frankly, he felt like he dodged death’s scythe by a mere inch. 

“Hey, there he is!” Mike ran to his side.

Eddie groaned again when Mike hugged him tight around the shoulders, but Mike didn’t budge or hesitate. He just held him there. It was nice. “Watch-” _Great. Speaking hurts now._ Watch the IV, is what he meant to say. “Ow.” His voice was hoarse. How long had he been unconscious?

“Your throat may be a little fucked. You’ve been out for two days, at least. We don’t know how long it’s been before we found you,” Bill offered some context, finally.

“Yeah, and they had to intubate you the first night, as well,” Mike added.

Eddie widened his eyes; his head was throbbing. “Why?” He slammed his head back and closed his eyes again, tired. 

“You had to get your stomach pumped.”

His eyes turned sad; he  _ felt  _ sad. He was sorry, he was so goddamn sorry, but... well, like Richie said however many days ago:  _ Apologies are for yourself, they do nothing for the person you hurt _ . So, Eddie hesitated on it.

“Are you okay?” Bill asked, voice soft and quiet. It was the same voice he used when Sonia died, when Eddie failed the Bar exam, when Bill drove him out of the city to get clean. It was his Big Brother voice. And something broke inside Eddie.

He hadn’t cried in 20 years, and there he was. Tears streaming down his face in absolute anguish. He knew he had some insecurities, sure, but the feeling of hatred for himself welling up inside was too much. Now he understood why he drank so much during those past days: total annihilation of his sympathetic nervous system. 

“Eddie…” Bill pushed himself up on the bed and sat with his back to the wall. He pulled Eddie closer to him so that Eddie was leaning on his stomach.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.” 

“Mikey, get him some water, please.”

Mike left the room at his husband’s request.

“You’re alright, now. You’re okay. Shh, Eddie…” He rubbed small circles between Eddie’s shoulder blades. “That’s all we care about, okay? Look at me.”

Eddie buried his face in Bill’s torso like a child. In a way, he was. Eddie had stopped aging emotionally after his mother’s passing. 

Bill sighed and leaned his head back. “That was so stupid, Eddie.” It was said with relief rather than anger. “You could have- gotten hurt, or-”

“M’okay.” The crying eased a bit. 

“Why didn’t you call us? We texted you a million times, we called.”

“I left my phone- ow.” He cleared his throat. “I left my phone in the car.”

“That’s a stupid fucking choice.”

And then it was silent. Too silent, heavy. The room felt smaller, all of a sudden, and Eddie closed his eyes, focusing his mind on his breathing. In through the nose – 1, 2, 3, 4. Out through the mouth – 1, 2, 3, 4. He knew why he left the phone in the car. So did Bill, probably. But it hung in the air unsaid, standing between them like a brick wall, and Eddie knew he had two options: he could leave the wall there and make a run for it, continuing in the same way he always had – alone; or he could say it and admit it to himself and knock the wall down, he could ask for help. In the end, after two-too many minutes of silence, Eddie decided he was sick of being alone.

“I don’t think I planned on coming back, Bill.” Eddie’s eyes filled with tears for the second time. “I think I need help.”

Bill held him tighter.

*******

**October 28th, 2018**

Upon his release from the hospital, a lot of things remained unsaid between the three men, and later on between him and Myra, who bought him flowers (flowers! He never deserved that woman, not for a second). Bill and Mike never brought up the fact he woke up calling Richie’s name several times, mostly for the sake of Eddie’s heart, and Eddie pretended he didn’t remember doing it. He and Myra promised to talk about the divorce – which was definitely happening – and Eddie promised to himself, quietly, that he would tell her everything when they did. It would hurt, there was no question, but Eddie had to do it.

There were a lot of things Eddie had to do.

*******

**October 30th, 2018**

“Hi, I’m Eddie.” Eddie had never felt more trapped before. He miscalculated how ready he was for this. He sighed, wringing his hands. He was sitting with his knees pressed together, bending slightly forward on the metal chair, all eyes on him. “And...” He sighed again. “I’m an alcoholic, four days sober.” He put up four fingers. “Well, technically five, but I wasn’t awake for a while there, so I don’t think it counts.”

Chuckles could be heard around the room. “Hi, Eddie,” several voices greeted in unison.

“I’m also a former addict, I stopped using around 16 years ago. And I’m gay.”

“This is a safe space, Eddie.”

“I know.” He clicked his tongue, pulling on a hung cuticle. “It’s still hard to say out loud, I guess.”

“What brings you to us?”

Eddie looked around, shook his head a little and, looking down, he smiled. “I’m tired.” It took him another second, but when he looked up he found that everyone sitting alongside him in that circle held an expression of mutual understanding in their faces. Eddie realized then and all at once that that was where he needed to be.  _ No more running. _ “I keep fucking up. I think I was always a fuck up, but my best friend doesn’t like it when I say that. He says it’s a cop-out. That I say I’m a fuck up so that I don’t have to take responsibility for my mistakes, as if they’re not choices but things I just couldn’t help. I know he’s right”, he crossed his arms, “he’s a lot smarter than me, people tend to underestimate him, though. Myself included. So, I can’t say I’m a fuck up. And I can’t say it was the drinking, because truth be told it wasn’t.”

“It sounds like you’re talking about something specific.”

Eddie uncrossed his arms and cleaned his palms on his jeans. “I hurt someone. I didn’t mean to but I did and I- I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think I can fix it, really. I can only recognize why I did it, as much as I wish I could undo it somehow. I hurt someone out of sheer cowardice and... because I couldn’t handle the thought of arguing about it or of facing it- facing him, about what I did. Because I knew I couldn’t explain it in a way that- It doesn’t matter now, I guess.” He sat up straight and scratched the bridge of his nose, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I just miss him.”

“It can be hard coming to terms with your mistakes. But in order to move on you have to recognize them and take them as lessons. You say it doesn’t matter now, because you don’t think you deserve forgiveness, that he won’t give it to you. I say it matters more than ever. Even if  _ he _ doesn’t forgive you, you have to forgive yourself. Or you’ll be stuck on it.”

Eddie just nodded. 

*******

Eddie fell face down on the bed and grabbed a pillow, pressing it hard against his chest. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, processing the AA meeting. It could have been worse, it’s true, but Eddie wished it didn’t hurt so damn much to talk about Richie, even without saying his name. In fact, he hadn’t said his name at all since waking up at the hospital. Bill and Mike wouldn’t bring him up either and Eddie appreciated it to a certain extent, although he didn’t like feeling like his friends were walking on eggshells around him because he had gotten his heart broken like a middle schooler. Upon thinking about it a little, could he even say he had gotten his heart broken? Wasn’t he the one who did the breaking?

_ I need a fucking nap.  _ What he actually needed was to check his phone for the first time since sending Bill and Mike his resignation letter, but he was dreading it and, being the king of making excuses, he had avoided going to his car the whole time since getting out of the hospital two days ago. He rolled over and stared silently at the ceiling for a minute before becoming restless.  _ I should learn how to meditate. _ Then, he laughed at the thought. “Eddie, you’re losing it, man.” Then, laughing, he padded his way to the living room.

“Bill,” Eddie called. Bill looked up from his very intimidating stack of papers and Eddie thanked his past self for quitting; he could not handle sobriety  _ and _ proofing legal documents at the same time.

“You good?” Bill frowned.

“Yeah, how do you meditate?”

“Wha- I don’t.” He looked confused.

“Not you, dumbass. How does one meditate?” Eddie pressed.

“Oh. Uhh…” Bill put down his pen and held his chin. “You close your eyes and think.”

“That’s it? That sounds fucking terrible,” Eddie snorted and padded further into the living room, throwing his entire body on the couch.

“You’re so bored right now,” Bill laughed.

Eddie scratched his nose and looked up. “I’m not bored, I’m trying to avoid my brain.”

“And you thought meditation would help with that? Meditation is about getting in touch with every single thought you have, you never heard of mindfulness?”

“No, and I don’t fucking want to.”

“When are you seeing the therapist?”

Eddie sucked on his tongue. “My birthday.”

Bill frowned. “Why on earth would you schedule it for your birthday?”

“Because he only had Fridays at noon free at the time I called, so I took the slot I could get.”

“You wanna do something?”

Eddie was staring at the ceiling again, looking for cracks or chipping paint, maybe even for his own self, reflected in its imperfections. He didn’t hear Bill’s question. Maybe he would like meditating, maybe being aware of his thoughts as they came to him wouldn’t be so bad. He would be able to assign them to specific triggers, not to avoid them, just to know. He liked the idea of  _ knowing _ .

“Eds.” Bill was now standing behind the couch, looking over it.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna do something?”

Eddie frowned, having forgotten what they were talking about.

“For your birthday.”

Eddie’s mouth rounded into a perfect little _ o _ . “No.” It came out sadder than he intended, but he ran with it.

Bill pouted a little. “You sure?”

“I’m okay, Billy.”

“Well... If you change your mind, let me know.” Bill walked back to the table that was currently serving as a makeshift desk.

“Bill?” Eddie looked down at his hands and wrung them.

“Yeah, buddy?” He said as he picked the pen back up.

“Thanks for staying home with me.”

*******

**November 2nd, 2018**

“In retrospect, I was too young. I was too young to have to deal with that, to feel responsible for our safety. I know she didn’t mean any harm, she was terrified. America is brutal on immigrants, and I can attest to that as both the child of immigrants and as an immigration lawyer. I look at these kids now and I see myself. They’re so fucking scared of losing their families and they know that there’s not much their parents can do. They have to literally lie their way through life in order to stay here. One slip of the tongue to the wrong person and ICE is getting a call and showing up at your front door, not even demanding papers, they just take you in and ask questions later. I think hiding things became my standard, growing up. I’m not using it as an excuse, I’m not painting myself as a victim, none of that. All I’m saying is if you’re taught that the only way to protect yourself and your family is to evade any sort of- any sort of closeness, or personal connections, it sticks with you. I couldn’t get too close to people, because people ask questions. I couldn’t have friendships because people start caring and they start wanting to know you and I couldn’t- I couldn’t fucking risk being  _ known _ . And when you’re raised like this, like everyone is a potential enemy who could ruin your life, it fucks up any future attempts at intimacy. So, I had two friends in college who I didn’t even let come to my mom’s funeral, because I didn’t know how to let people in. Even when they offered help, I didn’t know how to take it, you know? And then there was romantic intimacy and that was even worse. My first relationship, and I use the term very loosely here, was when I was 23 and I had just stopped using coke. Not my best idea; shockingly, not my worst either. I think I managed to date her for 8 months without her knowing my middle name. I met her entire fucking family and the most depressing thing was that I felt pure relief that I had no living relatives she could meet. She met my best friends two or three times. When we broke up, I think she actually told me it was because I was- how did she put it… Oh! A cold motherfucker, that was it. She said I- I- didn’t seem interested in having any sort of connection with her, and looking back she was probably right, I don’t have to think too hard to reach that conclusion. I was so closed off to intimacy and romance and relationships that it took me 41 years and a failed marriage to realize I was gay, and I was so shocked that I- God. I’m sorry I’m laughing, it’s just that I was  _ so _ shocked when I realized I loved him, that I actually- I thought I was broken for a while there. I looked at my best friends and at the way they love each other and act like they’re in their honeymoon phase even after 21 years together and I wondered why I didn’t have that. I married Myra selfishly, because I didn’t want to be alone and she was willing to put up with me. And after being told I was cold and off-putting and arrogant she was the first person who- But, I just didn’t feel it back. I thought I wasn’t able to. I read about uh- asexual and aromantic people and I thought, for a long time, that I- Turns out, I was just dating the wrong gender the entire time. Or maybe, I was just waiting... for him. Maybe. I don’t know if I’m gay, I assume so, because I- It doesn’t matter. Either I’m gay or he’s my soulmate. Or both. Fuck, it’s probably both. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. I ruined the entire thing. I’m a fucking coward, write  _ that _ down. I’ve been reading – Bill has a lot of books on queer theory – and turns out internalized homophobia is a thing I didn’t know existed. I was that one guy at bars who would say “I’m not homophobic, my best friends are gay.” Turns out, I was gay and I was also being pretty fucking homophobic. First time I kissed R- The first time I kissed  _ him _ , I panicked and texted him that I wasn’t gay. I took “am I gay” quizzes like a 12 year old. And so, I wonder, had I had a normal childhood, had I not been scared, had I  _ met _ people,  _ dated _ people, done things like normal kids and teenagers get to do- Would I have realized it sooner? Would I have avoided all of this...  _ pain? _ I know it’s no use dwelling on it, but I can’t help it. I wish a lot of things were different. I don’t blame her- my mom, I mean. She was trying to protect us. She didn’t speak a word of English when she moved here, my dad grasped only some of it. They did it for me, they did it for our family. I know it would have been different if my dad hadn’t died, too. And it certainly would have been different if illegal immigrants were given a better chance, if it was easier to get a green card or a visa. Or if the threat of deportation wasn’t so real and so cruel. It would have been better. Happier. I would have been better.”

“Well, holy shit,” Dr. Barlow spoke.

Eddie barked a surprised laugh. “I know.”

*******

Eddie took two deep breaths before unlocking his phone. Yes, he had finally worked up the courage to get it from his car. Okay, fine! Mike had gone to the car and gotten it for him. Baby steps.

The amount of notifications almost sent him into a panic attack, but he stopped, took another breath, and reminded himself that these notifications were old, and no one was worried or looking for him anymore. They all knew where he was, it was okay. The amount of texts was nauseating though. Eddie knew he had to read them all; he owed it to his friends and to everyone caught in the middle of this mess he caused. He was also weak and his eyes skimmed the iMessage inbox looking for the one name he hoped to see.

Richie hadn’t texted him. The entire time he hadn’t sent a single text. There were no missing calls from him either, Eddie checked. He didn’t really know why he was surprised to find this to be the case. He sat on the bed, legs hanging over the edge and swinging. Then he climbed further up to lie across it.  _ What did you expect? _ He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily through his nose. He held his phone against his chest and breathed slowly.  _ Mindfulness sounds like a great idea, maybe I could find out why it hurts to breathe.  _

He unlocked the phone again and looked up Richie’s number. His contact photo was still the picture he had taken of Richie at the parking lot of the shopping mall and he wondered if Richie kept his contact photo, too. He wondered if Richie still had his number at all, considering he didn’t try to contact him. Maybe Richie had deleted every sign of Eddie from his life and that was why Bill and Mike wouldn’t bring him up, because they didn’t want to be the ones to have to tell Eddie “hey, Richie fucking hates you and has not once asked about you, Eds. He didn’t even notice you were missing.”

“If he blocked me, I’m gonna be pissed.”  _ Right, Eds, because you are in a position where you get to be mad at him. Totally.  _ “Can I find out if I’m blocked without texting him?” He googled it.  _ How do I know if someone blocked my number. _ He closed the page.

Eddie opened iMessage again, then his empty chat with Richie, and three dots popped up. His eyes opened so wide it worsened his recently permanent headache. He sat up and started breathing heavily through his mouth, chest rising and falling. The dots kept appearing and disappearing. Richie was trying to say something and hesitating over and over again. Eddie watched the screen in both terror and relief. “Send it, you fuckin- Send it. Please, send it. Say something. Just, say something.”

**Author's Note:**

> Polish translations:  
> “Mamusia.” - Mommy  
> “Dlaczego płaczesz?” - Why are you crying?  
> “Mam dla ciebie kwiaty.” - I have flowers for you.  
> “Przepraszam, że palę. Wiem, że tego nienawidzisz.” - I’m sorry, I’m smoking. I know you hate it.  
> “Boję się być sam.” - I’m afraid to be alone. 
> 
> You can find this AU on twitter [HERE](https://twitter.com/attorneysAU)


End file.
